


damned if i do you, damned if i don't

by decato



Category: Free!
Genre: Gen, M/M, Makoharu Fanfiction Festival, this reads more like a gen fic than romance so WARNING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decato/pseuds/decato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The writers and the poets are the ones with the words but it is the Muse that bestows them with the ability to turn those words into an art.</p><p>(for prompt #16:Makoto is an up and coming novelist who garnered mild success with his first novel. Now he’s working on his second one and doesn’t have much inspiration, until he meets Haruka who becomes his muse.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	damned if i do you, damned if i don't

If you had asked Makoto what he had felt when his first novel had been published, he would have probably scratched the back of his head and smiled, a smile much too honest for someone who was about to hit his twenties, commenting on how it was just a lucky break for him.

And it really was a lucky break, one that had dropped into his lap out of the blue when he had least expected it.

His novel’s very first draft had been written on a whim, in between 3AM sleep cycles and too much caffeine that Makoto wondered if he was in a limbo between being awake and asleep at the same time. It had been ideas formulated on a writing forum that he had frequented almost daily, in between his university assignments and impending deadlines, some that had deeply intrigued him for nights on end that he had eventually found the time to write down his own interpretation of it.

Almost 6 weeks and 562 pages of relentless typing in between any spare break he could find, Makoto had finally posted it up for the rest of the forum members to read before letting himself land in bed from exhaustion.

As soon as he had awoken from his slumber, he had not expected to get a spam of email notifications, all reviews for the piece he had written, all varying for tiny comments like, “I really like your concept! Especially that ending, I totally did not see that coming,” to long interpretations of his writing and his characters, far more detailed than he had ever intended to make them become.

It didn’t take long for him to get contacted by a publishing company, considering the fact that he was still getting reviews for his story even after half a year. Not knowing what to do in this sort of situation, he had asked Sousuke for advice, the conversation still fresh in his memory as if it were yesterday:

_”They’re asking me if I want to publish. I really don’t know what to say about it, seeing as I really did just write it on a whim,” Makoto says, eyeing the steam created from the warm mug of coffee in his hand._

_“Not everyone gets an opportunity like this everyday. Even if it was on a whim, it was still something you wrote that you liked enough to post up, right? Why not take the chance on it? There are a lot of people out there who would like to be in your shoes, in this exact situation.”_

The more that Makoto thought about Sousuke’s words, the more it had made sense to take the offer and even if he did fail, it would have been good experience in the future.

So he agreed. It was almost 2 and a half years after that, draft after draft of revisions and sleepless nights in between work and school and graduation, when his first novel had been officially released, garnering a decent amount of success with the literacy world.

And that had been his very first step.

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

“So you’re hitting a writer’s slump for your new novel?”

Makoto sips at his coffee, eyes looking forward to meet Sousuke’s. “It’s called a writer’s block but yeah, I haven’t been able to find something I’ve really wanted to write on even since that day, you know?”

Sousuke hums, chin resting against the palm of his hand with his elbow propped against the edge of the table. “So you were hoping that talking to me would inspire something in you?”

“I really don’t know,” Makoto says, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, you were the first one to encourage me towards publishing and I really appreciated it back and now so I thought that maybe meeting up would spark something in me, I guess?”

That makes Sousuke chuckle, a genuine sound that reminds Makoto of something solid and reassuring. “Well, I feel honoured. Have I invoked something in you to write great things? Do you feel the urge to go home and start typing now?”

Makoto shakes his head, a faint smile on his lips. “Sorry, but no. But it does feel good to meet you again ever since we graduated. How are things going for you?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been helping my dad around his shop a little and doing coaching at the side for one of the local swim teams. Speaking of which, I just remembered that Rin told me to tell you that he was back.”

“That’s unexpected news. I thought he was only going to be back at the end of the year since there was an upcoming competition in a few months?” Makoto comments. Ever since Rin had left to Australia in hopes of joining the Olympic swim team there, they had only ever met up during major holidays when Rin would come back to his hometown to celebrate with his family.

“Seems he manages to get some early off days from his coach before the tournament so he’s coming back early this year and told me to invite you over to his place next weekend for dinner,” Sousuke tells him before looking at his watch. “Ah crap, I’ve gotta go. There’s a new shipment coming to the shop early and I’ve need to be back to help my dad unpack before he decides it’s alright to handle it by himself despite the fact that his back is in such a bad shape.”

Makoto waves Sousuke’s hand away when he tries to pass him the money to pay for his own drink. “Don’t worry about it. Just go help your dad. I’ll see you next weekend.”

“I’ll take that as me owing you the next time I get the chance to pay,” Sousuke says, burying his hands into his coat pockets. “It feels good to see you again.”

As Makoto watches him turn a corner, out of sight and back into reality, Makoto tilts his chair back a little, closing his eyes as he takes in a deep breath.

There is no blue sky or fluffy white clouds when he opens them, only slight cracks like spider’s legs that he tries to trace with his fingers as far as he can reach.

“Would you like to pay now, sir?” A waitress asks him, smile bright as she takes away the empty cup on the table at Sousuke’s side, his own almost half done.

“Do you know where I could go pay for some inspiration?” Makoto asks, almost a faint whisper above the noise of chatter around him.

“Excuse me, sir? I couldn’t quite catch that?”

Makoto shakes his head, smiling to himself as he tilts back his chair and stands up. “It’s nothing. So how much does it cost?”

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

Makoto’s memory of the Matsuoka siblings has never changed, always the same as ever no matter how many years has passed.

He chuckles slightly as he watches the younger one get fawned over by Seijuurou and Momotarou before her brother intervenes, dragging them both away to help him in the kitchen.

She looks the same, but in a good way. That refreshing nature of hers has never seemed to wane over the years and has instead been highlighted by it, something rare in this day and age.

Rin is more reserved but has been more outspoken as of late, especially since his high school days when he had hit a wall about becoming a professional swimmer and realising that he was a fish in a much bigger ocean than he even knew existed.

“So, I heard from Sousuke about you hitting a wall in your writing,” Rin says suddenly at his side, patting a hand against his shoulder. “Anything I can do to help you?”

Makoto fakes a sigh, his smile giving him away. “Sousuke is just exaggerating about it. It’s nothing major, just me getting a little stumped on inspiration.”

“Well, just tell me if you need any help with anything. I’ve known you for almost as long as I’ve known Sousuke so you’re practically like family to me,” Rin tells him, a grin etched on his features.

“Thanks, I’ll tell you if I ever do. Same goes to you too, Mr Olympic Representative.”

“Oh yeah, speaking of representatives.” Rin calls out to a guy a couple of feet away from them, blue eyes framed by dark hair. “This is Haru, one of Japan’s representatives for the international Japan swim team. Haru, this is Makoto, the writer back from my hometown that I was talking about.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Nanase Haruka. Just ‘Haru’ is fine.” A hand is extended and Makoto reaches out halfway to shake at it.

“Likewise. I’m Tachibana Makoto.”

“Don’t be so stiff you two,” Rin says between the most of them, looking amused. “I’m going to go to the kitchen to see if my mum needs some help so I’m going to leave you guys for a bit.”

“Take your time,” Makoto says above the chatter, watching as Rin enters the kitchen before looking back at Haru who is merely staring at his own feet as if they are the most interesting thing in the room.

“So um, how long have you known Rin?” Makoto asks, trying to strike conversation.

“Just almost up to three years. I met him during my first official competition and we kept in contact afterwards. I was surprised that a local from here was on the Australian team, actually,” Haru tells him.

Makoto chuckles, the laugh lines on his face visible. “As much as he is Japanese, Australia has always been like a second home for him ever since he started studying there. He pretty much made up his mind about swimming there after our graduation.”

“Do you swim, Makoto-san?” Haru asks him and Makoto isn’t sure if he’s imagining the slight glint in the other’s eyes.

“Not really.” Makoto scratches the back of his neck absentmindedly. “I’ve never been good with stuff like the open water so I usually don’t try to actively try swimming. Not that I am any good at it to begin with, seeing as I’ve never gotten proper training for it. Also, you don’t have to use any formalities with me so just call me ‘Makoto’.”

The look on Haru’s face is almost unreadable as he puts a hand to his chin. “You do look like quite the athletic type, even if Rin says you do write for a living.”

“I jog around my neighbourhood every morning. It’s a habit of mine ever since I was a kid and I never really thought about dropping it,” Makoto tells him. “What about you? Got any sort of morning habit.”

Haru shakes his head then stops suddenly. “I take a swim every morning and evening at the local recreational pool nearby my place. If they’re close then it’s just my bathtub.”

“Bathtub?” Makoto questions, not quite sure if he’s hearing it right but Haru’s expression remains unmoved as he nods. “Seems like you like the water a lot, don’t you?”

“That’s because no matter what you face in life, it will always be there for you,” Haru tells him in such a straightforward manner, eyes clear and bright like a child’s. “It will neither run away from you nor move forward so the only thing you can do is constantly move forward on your own.”

The answer makes Makoto smile unconsciously, especially at Haru’s choice of words. “It’s interesting that you think about it that way.”

“Is it?” Haru questions, tilting his head to the side.

“So what interesting conversation are the both of you having?” Rin asks as he places the plates of food in his hand on the dining table and heads back to them.

“Just about common interest,” Makoto answers almost immediately and Rin laughs.

“Sounds like the two of you are bonding. Oh yeah, you should ask Haru to take you for their practice tomorrow, since I’ll be busy with stuff tomorrow,” Rin says to Makoto. “I’ve heard that being a new environment can act as inspiration for people like you. Besides, Haru is pretty good even if he only likes to swim freestyle.”

“Sure, it sounds alright since I’ve got nothing planned tomorrow,” Makoto says, smiling at Haru who remains unchanged. “Would it be alright with you?”

Haru nods. “It’s an open practice so outsiders are allowed in. I’ll message you the time and place.”

The two of them exchange mobile numbers, a fumbling of buttons on a tiny mobile keypad before getting called over to eat by Sousuke.

Makoto stares at the number and saves it under the name ‘Haru’.

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

The swimming centre is wide and spacious, the closest imitation of man’s to the vast and open seas, an illusion cut short by the strong smell of chlorine and bleach, smooth tiled floors instead of gritty sand underneath and between his toes.

Haru is standing there, waiting for him in swimming shorts and a swimming cap coupled with goggles over his head. Makoto waves at him and Haru waves back.

“Sorry about being a little late. I wasn’t quite sure of the area so it took me awhile to find the place,” Makoto tells Haru as he walks towards him.

“It’s alright. Training hasn’t started yet anyway.”

Makoto takes a seat at the side along with a few other people as he watches Haru and a bunch of other swimmers get ready to dive in.

It feels like a blur of moments as soon as someone clicks the timer and the swimmers dive in with enough precision that they are no areas for mistakes. Idly, he wonders just how much they train just to perfect that one dive in, how many laps they swim building up muscles and stamina only for their effort to be rewarded by numbers on a scoreboard and a medal for those who make the cut.

All those moments however, are as fleeting as the wind as Makoto watches Haru. Haru, who seems to make it seem effortless. Effortless and beautiful, with such grace and posture that Makoto doesn’t know he’s sucked in a breath until the first lap is done and someone reads out their times to them.

It hits him, like a sledgehammer at the back of his head and suddenly Makoto feels the need to run back home and open his laptop to type, the words running through his mind faster than he can even comprehend.

After Makoto thanks Haru for allowing him to see their practice session, trying hard to keep his hands from shaking, he almost runs back home at full speed, forgetting to stop by a convenience store along the way to get himself dinner.

He starts to write a story about a boy, a boy who is only alive whenever he is submerged and drowning, unable to inhale in the oxygen fast enough for his lungs before they are clogged up with water.

A boy that is only alive in the water.

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

Haru doesn’t seem to think that there is anything wrong with the fact that Makoto comes to watch his practices weekly and Makoto is glad for that, seeing as he’s more than halfway done with his next draft, far ahead of his appointed deadline by his editor.

“Do you want to go for dinner?” Haru asks him one day, when Makoto’s presence had been known enough that even his teammates had already remembered his name and had even struck conversation with him occasionally during break.

He doesn’t think much about it so Makoto accepts without hesitation. They end up in a nearby ramen store that Haru says is a favourite of his due to their whole section of mackerel side dishes and specialty ramen.

After Haru orders an outstanding amount of mackerel that baffles even Makoto, he asks, “So did something good happen recently?”

“Hmm?” Makoto’s voice is muffled behind the rim of his glass as he takes a large gulp of his iced tea.

“You have this sort of look in your eyes lately, like you’ve found something particularly good so I just thought that something good might have happened.”

Makoto hums, as if emphasizing the point. “I’ve been inspired to write lately so my editor hasn’t been on my back about me not reaching deadlines.”

Their ramen comes along with a couple of Haru’s side dishes when Haru speaks up. “That’s nice. Speaking of which, I decided to ask Rin about your book and bought a copy to read.”

“So how did you find it?”

Haru pokes at his ramen a little, thoughtful. “It’s a very interesting concept, especially your take on the concept of death. It was quite a twist when you find out that the main character was never really there in the first place, just several different people at different times.”

Watching as Haru begins to eat, Makoto answers, “Yeah. It was an idea that had sparked up in a writing forum that I was in before and I became so engrossed with the idea that I had eventually decided to write my own interpretation of it when I realised that no one else was going to do it. I didn’t actually intend for it to become a published novel but then a lot of things happened and before I knew it, I had become an actual author, in the more literal sense.”

“I felt pretty bad for the main character, who was trying to make it right for a lot of different people seeing as he could never turn back his own past to change how he had left everything behind before his death,” Haru tells him, moving through his food faster than Makoto can even chew. “But when I thought about it even more, I think he was happy with the sacrifices he made and he just helped other people because he felt like it was God’s way of asking him to pay back for his good fortune.”

“What makes you think that?” Makoto is genuinely curious towards Haru’s answer.

“He had to suffer through so much but he got to do the one thing he wanted to do the most without having to listen to judgement from other people. He had gotten the ultimate form of freedom before his death, in a way. I don’t think anyone would regret that.”

“I see.” And they end it at there, continuing their night.

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

The sky looks considerably blue when Makoto decides to stare out of his window, as if painted by an artist’s hand. Sometimes, he wonders if he might be able to smudge the colours if he reaches out his hand far enough to touch at it.

In between swimming practices, writing and occasional dinner invites, Makoto had finally finished and submitted his first draft, recalling the happy look Amakata-sensei’s face when she had came to pick it up.

He unlocks his phone and scrolls down his contact list until he finds the name ‘Haru’ staring back at him, so simple and easy to say in such a way that makes Makoto smile.

Deciding to send a text message, Makoto types ‘thank you’ and presses send.

Almost a minute later, there is a reply.

_what for?_

Makoto shakes his head, a grin on his face that Haru can’t see.

_it’s nothing. i just felt like saying it._

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

On the release date on his next book, Makoto’s day starts the same as usual. He gets up, washes up and rummages through the kitchen to create some semblance of a breakfast before sitting on his couch and wondering what to do for the rest of the day as he munches on dry cereal.

Fortunately for him, there isn’t much pondering as he hears his phone’s ringtone and picks up the calls without looking at the caller ID, sleep still eating at the edges of his mind.

“ _Good morning, Makoto._ ”

There is slight static in the background coming from the other side of the call but Makoto recognises the voice almost immediately.

“Haru? What’s with the sudden call in the morning?” Makoto asks, rubbing his eyes as he straightens up his back in an attempt to sound more awake.

“ _I just- I don’t know. Do you want to eat breakfast with me? Or lunch? Brunch? I really didn’t know if you were going to be awake by this hour._ ”

Makoto stares at the bowl of dry cereal he had settled down next to him on the couch. “Any of the above sound fine to me. Do you have a place in mind?”

There is some shuffling noises followed by the answer ‘yeah’ and Makoto gets ready as he receives a message from Haru giving him the address of their meeting place.

It’s a quaint little coffee shop about a half an hour walk away from Makoto’s place, almost unnoticed by the casual passersby. Haru is already sitting at the corner with a glass of water right in front of him when he arrives.

“Sorry for being a little late. I’m not really a morning person so I wasn’t expecting to get out of the house so early,” Makoto tells him, taking the seat right across Haru and ordering himself a cup of black coffee, without cream or sugar.

Haru smiles a little, a subtle upward tilt of his lips that takes a trained eye to notice. “It’s fine. I don’t really like to get out of my house early when I have breaks anyway.”

“As much as I’d like to think this was just a friendly meetup, what’s up?”

“Nothing much,” Haru says, taking a gulp of his water. “I was just thinking of things and before I knew it, I ended up calling you.”

“Is that so?”

Haru shuffles through the stuff in his bag, resting right against his legs before producing something and laying it down on the table in front of Makoto. “Since I knew the author, I thought I would ask him to sign it himself rather than getting some rare, limited edition copy of it that would cost at least twice the price of it.”

Makoto laughs then, flipping the front cover to the title page and taking out a pen from his pocket. It’s a habit he’s gotten into ever since he was a child, since ideas always came to him out of the blue when he least expected them to. “So, did you read it yet?”

“Just a little, since I just got it today. You really like the theme of death, don’t you?” Haru asks him, watching as Makoto scribbles underneath the bolded font and writes a little note inside.

“And you really like the water, don’t you?”

It’s not really an answer and Haru acts out of character a little by sticking out his tongue at Makoto when his coffee arrives, murky black liquid both intimidating and inviting at the same time.

“I think you should continue reading the book and tell me later what you think about it,” Makoto says, looking straight into those eyes that are the same shade of blue as the sky outside of Makoto’s window.

“Alright.”

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

_it’s a good read. i really liked your main character._

_p.s i don’t think i am that sacrificial when it comes to water….. alright, maybe i would be but not enough to call it my only reason for survival._

Makoto laughs, because it’s the only thing he can think of as a reply, even if Haru can’t see it.


End file.
